


still a flicker of hope

by nothanksweregood (eavis)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (offscreen) - Freeform, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 03:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12785928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eavis/pseuds/nothanksweregood
Summary: After Jay, after x-factor, after a lot of drinks, after - after. Louis isn't dealing well. Niall reminds him there are still people here for him.





	still a flicker of hope

**Author's Note:**

> heads up u guys this is probably the darkest thing emotionally speaking I've ever posted so - just be aware louis is not doing well in this fic and contemplates (with no actual intention of following through) suicide and drinks a Lot (alcoholism implied sorta?) so if u need to sit this one out be safe! there's also plenty of h/c tho bc this is me.

“The thing is,” Louis says and stops. “The thing is, sometimes I just really want to die.”

 

No one says anything for a long minute. Long enough for Louis to think through, in exquisite detail, all the many many ways he’s a complete idiot both in general and specifically for telling them about this. He’s got to be bloody fucking mad in more ways than one, letting anyone know - he’s a fuck up, he knows, but he doesn’t bother people like this, he doesn’t - he wouldn’t have, if he’d been in his right mind.

 

If Lottie hadn’t found him with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey, too sozzled to even make it onto the couch, desperately trying to escape his own brain and body.

 

He’d looked up at her, bottle in hand and despair in his eyes as she demanded to know what the fuck he was thinking. 

 

“It’s not working,” he’d said, and his throat burned and burned and burned no matter how much he drank. “I can’t make it stop.”

 

She hadn’t asked what he’s trying to stop. She just took the bottle away and forced him to drink three glasses of water and swallow some paracetamol and dumped him in bed. He doesn’t deserve her, and he knows it, and it’s one more thing on the long list of reasons it would be better, easier if he weren’t here. It’s not fair all this has been dumped on her, that she can’t even rely on her older brother to help because all he can do is throw money at things and it doesn’t do any good, it never does any  _ fucking good _ .

 

It was sodding Halloween. They didn’t even celebrate Halloween. 

 

Back in the present there’s still a horrified, awkward silence. Louis nods and gets up, shoving his way past Liam a little more roughly than he needed to.

 

“Mate - “ Liam starts. 

 

The door slamming takes care of the rest of that sentence.

 

Louis digs into his pockets for his pack of cigs and curses when there’s only one left. He forgot he’d chained most of them earlier, waiting to go on stage. His mum’ll - 

 

He stops, one hand on his lighter. His fingers are shaking too much to ignite it anyway, and he watches his last cigarette disappear from his nerveless grip and through the gap in the steps. He swears, reaching down for it, and then swears again when he hits his head on the railing as he stoops. But the bright burst of pain that flares drives out the clamoring in his head, even if it’s just for a minute. Deliberate, he lets his head fall back against the railing again.

Before he can do it a third time a hand inserts itself in between his head and the railing.

“Enough, Louis.”

It’s Niall, his voice harsh. Harsher than it’s ever been, directed at Louis. 

Louis squints up through the pain spiking behind his eyes. ‘Sod off’ is on the tip of his tongue, but this is still Niall. He’s not going to say that to Niall. He pulls away from Niall’s hand instead, ignoring the way the spikes get worse as he does. “You come out to tell me it’s gonna get better? Time’ll help? I should be taking care of the rest of the family?”

“No,” Niall says quietly. “No, I’m going to drive you home and put you to bed. You’re done, mate.”

“No point in going home,” Louis says. He mostly just wants to lie down on the concrete and never move again. His corpse’ll disintegrate eventually, right? “She’s not there. ‘n Lotts threw out all the alcohol.”

Niall mutters something that might be ‘good for her’ and reaches out, hauling Louis upright. “Come on. Alberto’s bringing the car ‘round. You need anything from inside?”

Louis manages a head-shake. He feels dizzy, now that he’s standing up, and he doesn’t have the strength to resist when Niall half leads-half carries him down the rest of the stairs and out the back entrance. Alberto doesn’t say anything when he sees him, but then Alberto’s used to him looking shitty. He presses his forehead against the cool of the car window, wondering vaguely if he still has the vodka in his room or if Lottie found that too.

He startles when Niall slides in the back after him, nearly smashing his head on the glass, and Niall shakes his head, reaching out again and tugging Louis closer. “Tryin’ to break your fool head, still?”

Louis thinks about protesting, but Niall’s shoulder is comfortable and arguing takes too much effort anyway.

He almost dozes off, head pillowed against Niall’s shoulder and the familiar sound of Alberto humming along to the Latin Top 40. His head’s muggy enough that he wouldn’t have noticed or cared if an elephant had dropped into the passenger seat, which is why he’s giving himself a pass for not noticing they’re going to his house, not Niall’s or his Mum - or Dan’s. It’s Dan’s house, now, because his mum’s not there, because they buried her weeks ago, and all Louis can do is lie about getting drunk and thinking about how much he wants to join her and wow, perfect, he’s leaking  _ again _ . Snot all over Niall’s shirt and God knows Alberto’s seen him crying often enough recently, but to do it in front of Niall - 

But Niall’s just rubbing his back softly, making tissues appear out of nowhere and not saying anything about how Louis ought to be over it by now or that he needs to keep it together for the rest of the kids or punching him in the shoulder and telling him to man up.

The tears stop eventually, but Louis almost wishes they hadn’t. As soon as he stops crying he starts feeling dead inside again and like the only solution is for him to match the outside to the inside. Plus it’s really bloody embarrassing, isn’t it, sobbing all over one of your mates. Louis is a grown man - he’s got a sodding  _ kid _ , for fuck’s sake. He should be better than this.

“Come on, then, Tommo.”

Louis waits, braced and miserable, for Niall to start in on him, but instead he finds himself stripped and shoved into the shower with a fresh pair of trackies laid out for him when he’s finished. There’s a cup of tea made just how he likes it on the bedside table, and Niall’s cleared out all the old bottles and the bin Louis’d been sick in that morning and hadn’t thrown out yet and turned down the covers. 

The bed’s freshly made. Louis stares at it, hair dripping very cold onto his bare shoulders and feeling very much like he’s going to start crying again, until Niall shows up in the doorway and ushers him firmly into bed.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anythin’, but right now I think you should have a nice long kip, yeah?”

Louis doesn’t actually feel very sleepy, but it’s easier to nod and let Niall pull the duvet up to his chin and flip the light off.

That being said it’s a bit of a surprise when he wakes up hours later and it’s completely dark out. The tea’s gone completely cold but he drinks it anyway, tossing on a hoodie and wandering downstairs. 

Niall’s on the sofa watching golf, predictably. He turns his head and smiles at Louis, easy in himself and in Louis’ space like Louis has forgotten how to be with anyone lately. “Mornin’, glory. Want a fresh cup?”

“Nah, ‘s fine,” Louis takes another sip, edging a little closer to the couch. Niall flips the blanket back in invitation, and Louis takes it, wondering when he’d become so fucked up he waits to sit on his own bloody couch.

“What’re you still doin’ here, lad?” Louis asks after a horrible interval where golf is the only thing happening. “I mean, I’m not rushing you out or anything, just - I’m all right to make me own tea.”

“Are you?” Niall actually turns the telly off, wriggling around to face Louis. “I mean, God knows you’ve been through enough shit lately but like - what you said earlier. I feel like - I mean, we’ve been talking and we think it might be a good idea if you thought about getting some help. Like. Professional help.”

Louis doesn’t say anything for a long minute, swallowing against the lump of granite that seems lodged in his throat until it falls to sit sickeningly in his stomach. “Right. You draw the short straw then?”

Niall looks at him steadily, refusing to take the bait. “It’s not a short straw, caring about you. We agreed - Liam’ll be by tomorrow, and Harry’s got the day after that. Lottie offered but we told her we’ve got this for now. Danielle’s - worried about you. She texted me after the show. Said you weren’t answering your phone.”

Louis glances to the other side of the room where his phone’s pocketed in a hoodie he hasn’t worn in days. 

Niall sighs. “I’ll text her. You really shouldn’t -” He cuts himself off, but Louis can fill in the blank.

Shouldn’t leave his dead phone unplugged and turned off. Shouldn’t go off and get stonking drunk and leave his longsuffering girlfriend and sister to pick up his slack. Shouldn’t be such a fucking mess that he needs babysat so he won’t off himself.

His hands tighten on the edge of the couch. Why does he have to be this way. What’s  _ wrong _ with him that all his relationships end up like this - he always does something, pushes people away, annoys them until they can’t take anymore and find someone nicer and easier to be around.

“Hey.” Niall’s moved without Louis even realising, crouched in front of him and putting a hand almost hesitantly on Louis’ knee. “Hey. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that. It’s not fair, putting all this on you right now.”

“Should be able to deal with it without fucking everything up,” Louis says, voice wavering no matter hard he tries to keep it steady. “Even before she - she passed. I’ve always done it.”

“Done what?”

“Fucked everything up. Something - it’s not right, in my brain. No one stays. Bio dad left right off. Mark, El, Zayn. Danielle’s about had enough of me. And the one person I thought I could count on to stay -” He breaks off, turning away from Niall sharply. 

A hand, gentle on one side of his face, turning it back. “I’m listenin’,” is all Niall says, quiet.

“She left too! Everyone  _ fucking leaves _ , and I’m sick of it! I’m so sick of it and I’m sick of  _ being _ here and existing and having to  _ do _ things just all the time, every single  _ day _ you have to live and it’s just too much, Niall, I can’t do it!”

“Oh, Lou.” Niall’s beside him on the couch now, pulling Louis in for the second time in the same day as Louis gets tears and snot all over Niall and his couch and the blanket Niall tugs over him. “‘s all right, lad, cry as much as you want. Got all the time in the world, haven’t we.”

Louis cries and it feels like the chasm that’s been yawning wider and wider ever since they got the news about Jay is being filled with tears, but this time instead of just filling higher and higher until he’s like to drown in them they drain out afterwards, and when he lifts his head up an hour or a lifetime later, he feels a dull kind of peace he hasn’t had in years.

Niall hands him a tissue and tucks the blanket in more securely. “‘m gonna go make some more tea, all right? I’m comin’ right back, and then we can chat a bit.”

Louis nods, fingers closing automatically around the edges of the blanket.

Niall’s true to his word, coming back with a mug of tea for each of them and pressing one into Louis’ hands before sitting down with his own and looking at Louis seriously. “Right off, I just wanna say - I’m not leavin’ you. Short of murderin’ me, you couldn’t make me fuck off. I love you, mate. You’re one of me best friends, and there’s nothin’ in you that makes people leave you, I promise. If they leave you that’s on them. You don’t need to take that on, yeah?”

Louis takes a sip of his tea, hoping Niall’s not waiting for actual verbal confirmation on that one.

Niall looks at him for a long moment before sighing. “I dunno what to say that’ll make you believe me.”

“You don’t -” Louis’ shoulders hunch a bit. It’s not fair Niall feeling like he has to fix Louis, not when none of it’s Niall’s fault. “‘s my fucked up brain. It’s not even that big -”

“If you’re about to tell me it’s not that big of a deal,” Niall interrupts, voice very tight, “I’m just going to stop you right there, mate. You just told us you wanted to die. And that you’re sick of existing. We’re allowed to care about you.”

“We?” Louis says, and it’s out before he can stop it.

Niall glances at him. “Yeah. I told you, the other lads are coming by the next couple’ve days.” He pauses, and his voice is very gentle as he goes on, “Whatever happened, like. With you ‘n Leemo. You know he still loves you, yeah?”

Louis takes another drink of tea. Maybe he still has some whiskey somewhere, under his bed or in his closet. He could make a hot toddy kind of thing. That’s a normal thing to do, surely, when it’s cold out.

“Louis.”

Reluctant, Louis looks up, stomach clenching. “I said some - pretty awful things. About - Cheryl. And Liam siding with Harry about - about the band.”

“No worse than the rest of us were thinking.”

“Yeah, but I  _ said _ them,” Louis says, bleakly. “Surprised he hasn’t had a go at me in interviews, honestly. He’d have the right to.”

Niall makes a noise, not quite a scoff. “Liam wouldn’t do that even if you did deserve it. None of us would. Mate, we love you. Bit of an argy bargy’s not gonna change that.”

“‘Argy bargy’?” Even through the odd pain in his front, Louis can’t help but laugh. “Mate, are you actually me gran?”

“Oh, shut it, you know what I meant. Tosser.” Niall chuckles too, and the tension eases enough that Louis finds himself saying quite easily,

“I know you care about me, honestly. It’s just - I know it up in me head and not - it doesn’t quite get through to the rest of me, y’know? Like there’s something in me brain telling me it’s not true on repeat. It’s just been - easier. Trying t’ drink enough, like. Make it shut up.”

“Right.” Niall looks thoughtful for a long moment and then determined. “Right, then. We’ve just got to be louder than the lies. Even Harry, for all he’s into playing everything off as cool these days.”

Louis laughs again, even easier this time, “Texted him last week, you know. Told him the clip for the film looked proper brilliant. Know what he said?”

“Something about what an unbelievable honour it was to be in it?” Niall asks, sounding exasperated. 

Louis mimes pulling up his phone and reading out a text, doing his best Harry impression. “‘Thank you very much. I’m very excited about it. I hope you come see it. All the best, Harry.’ Like I don’t bloody know who he is. Wanker.”

“Bellend,” Niall agrees amiably. “Think he’ll actually drown in it?”

“At this point I’m almost hoping he does,” Louis mutters, but caves a second later. “I don’t, really. Obviously he’s going to be great. He’s just - he’s Harry, innit. Still can’t stay angry with him even though God knows I’ve got reasons enough to be.” He glances sideways at Niall. “Not so many as you, though.”

Niall shrugs, taking a long drink of tea. Louis rolls his eyes. 

“I already tried that trick meself. Really, lad, any time you want you just say the word and I’ll punch him right in his movie star face.”

“‘Preciate that, yeah.” Niall leans forward to set his mug down (on a coaster, because it’s Niall) on the coffee table. “Let’s just - leave it at him being Harry. Like you said. He can’t even help it, most times. Just who he is, yeah? Come on, then, enough of all this. Wanna put in a film or sommat? Have a cuddle?”

“Netflix and chill?” Louis says, laughing a little. “Yeah, sure, why not though. I think the Big Fat Quiz is on.”

“Brilliant. Who’s your money on, then?”

“‘s not gonna be Richard Ayoade, is it? I mean, it’s been years since he won. Is David Mitchell on this year?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“It’ll be his team, then. Proper brainy, he is.”

“I’m gonna go for Mel, I reckon.” Niall snags another blanket, propping his feet up on the table and moving closer to Louis. “Bit of a wild card, but I like my chances.”

“You just think she’s fit,” Louis says, but he’s laughing, and Niall’s warm along his side, and his tea’s still warm, and even if there’s no alcohol in it - well, he’ll be all right for a couple of hours. He’ll take a couple of hours.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to b and sasha for looking this over!


End file.
